The Art of Hufflepuffication
by Harmonic Friction
Summary: Part two. Ernie and Justin discuss dreams. Angsty. Slashy.
1. A Friendly Game

**AN: **The following fic is a gift for Ronwheezyrox, who is sick (collective _'awww' _please) and needed some slashy fluff goodness. To read more of this pairing, check out my other fic, **_Off._** Thank you & goodnight… oh, and in case you're wondering, I **did **say 'slashy'.

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The Art of Hufflepuffication

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Hufflepuffs, unlike the other students at Hogwarts, knew something. They knew that the other houses were both two serious and full of crap. They also determined that all of the others hated those _within _their year and house as much as they hated those _outside _of their house. Hufflepuffs only hated those _outside _of their house. Other Hufflepuffs were family. 

While Slytherin and Ravenclaw **competed **in a Quidditch match, the Hufflepuffs decided to have a "friendly" game of tag. No other house would _ever _think of putting the word "friendly" in front of a sport, or an in-class discussion. Or a meal time. The other houses were in love with hatred. Hufflepuffs could easily be seen as the Hogwarts hippies.

Kindness, peace, togetherness, _man._

"Right, so let's pick teams!" Hannah shouted, running in place with her bright pink earmuffs on. She'd loved them so much in Herbology that Professor Sprout just let her _keep _the darn things.

"Okay," agreed Sarah Groan, a fourth year with amazing dreadlocks. "But _who's _with _who?"_

"Yeah!" exclaimed someone from the back of the huddle. "We have to make it _fair!"_

Draco Malfoy would have heaved bile at such behavior.

"Well," Ernie began casually, clearly the lone Huffle-jock," I get Justin."

Justin always looked suspicious, like he was being accused of something. He drew his shoulders up. "Eh- I don't _want _to play… Besides, do you _really _need teams for tag?"

Hannah was dismayed. "If we don't make _teams_, then it's one-for-all, in't? And that's against the Hufflepuff way!"

"So what? It doesn't make sense. Tag is a cutthroat game," Justin said tersely. "I won't play." Sending Ernie an angry look for even _considering _to pick him, he stomped away.

Justin was known widely as the Huffle-_poop._

The others were kind of sad, alas they knew he needed his space, so they went on with their nonsensical game of tag.

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Ernie wouldn't take 'no' for an answer. Sometimes he was too much of a Gryffie for anyone's liking.

"Oi," he said, spotting Justin, reading a thick volume with a deadly scowl. He was under one of the willow trees by the lake, and hardly noticed that anyone was talking to _him._

"Oi, you," Ernie said again, and Justin looked somewhere to the left.

Ernie trudged loudly straight in front of Justin and stood with a frown.

Slowly, the book came down.

"You," Justin declared. "Well, what do you want?"

After almost a minute of silence, Ernie pointed down at Justin's face and said a very simple sentence:

"Hey, loserface, tag, you're it."

Justin blinked, and coldly stared right back into the boy's eyes. "You're kidding."

But Ernie was all ready running, running, running.

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"_Said 'tag', you dumb git!" _Ernie screamed from what seemed like miles away.

"Said 'don't do sports'!" Justin yelled back.

"Thought Muggles loved sports!"

"My parents couldn't throw a ball off a building!"

"A **what!?"**

Sighing, Justin picked up his bookbags, yes, _plural. _As Ron Weasley once said: "Damn, you carry a lot of useless garbage." (Ron didn't carry _lint _in his pockets.)

He walked toward the other boy at a sloth-like pace. Finally, Ernie just met him halfway.

"So, you said your Muggle parents threw you from a building?"

"Hardly, though it's probably about the same to _most _of these people.

"Oh." Ernie didn't know how deep Justin really was. "So… you're gay," was what he said next.

"Yes, you all ready said that twice today."

"Sorry I've never met anyone gay. Besides Millicent Bulstrode, but she's a beast."

"All _right._"

"Fancy me, then?"

"Shut up."

"Tag. Don't think I've forgotten, tag!" With that, Ernie sprinted off again.

Justin hated running, he hated P.E., he hated everything, but he _did _fancy Ernie.

And so he _did _run, and he tried to be quick, but he ended up tripping over a mossy stump and down he went.

Ernie turned around from his first place position and saw Justin's newfound position. "Oh dear," he said gravely. "You're not kidding."

"No, I'm really, really not."

"No wonder you're such a cynic."

"I know. I fail at life." Except this was said in such a voice that curly-haired Ernie Macmillan approached Justin with the valor of Viktor Krum and wrapped his arms around the boy's shoulders and rested his forehead against the boy's forehead.

"I just don't know- know, wh-_what _to do," stammered Justin, who wasn't used to being touched. "I just don't know how to fix it."

Ernie closed his eyes and whispered: _"You're it."_

_**fin?**_


	2. Dream Catching

_**AN: **Once again, _a gift for my dear ronwheezyrox, who gifted me a wonderous Dudley fic. Darn her for making me fall in love with yet _another _original character! _Darn _her. So here's hoping this flufflepuff slash makes _her_ day!

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Part Two: Dream-Catching

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One minute later, and Ernie was gone. He was a prized player in the friendly game of tag and he didn't want to keep them waiting. (That's what he said.)

One week later and Ernie's mind was still back by the lake, by the tree, with Justin. _Boys under trees. _It seemed so charming somehow.

Three weeks later and _as fate would have it, _Madame Trelawney divided them into groups of two, yes, two, and guess who? Ernie and Justin were placed together.

Justin set his jaw, being the Hufflepoop that he is, he wasn't going to give in so easily. He'd all ready kicked Ernie out of his mind, simple as _straight boys are too much trouble. _"All right," he barked, a command, not a question.

Ernie couldn't help but grin. "All right," he responded, an answer or a question.

"All right," Justin replied, and he sat down rigidly as though he can't touch anything around him, for fear it might break. "So what was your dream last night?" he inquired, reading from the sheet of questions that Trelawney had just distributed.

Ernie paused and cocked his eyebrow. "Come right out and say it, don't you?"

"What?" Justin didn't look up from the paper. He wasn't _like _the other students. He didn't find a sick twist in _everything, _he didn't try to be perverted just for the sake of a laugh. He was more mature than that.

And for some reason, the fact that Justin was so proper and naïve made it all the worse. Ernie blushed furiously and looked away. "I don't want to go first. What was your dream?"

Justin set down the paper with a defiant swish and glared at the blond boy. "Please don't be difficult. I wouldn't have thought you were one _those _people who revels in letting others do all the work. I must say, Macmillan, I've really _impressed."_

"I'm not!" protested Ernie," I wouldn't do that! I hate that, too! I was just—just go first, please!" His face was a hot red.

"Fine," Justin declared tersely. He had no idea why Ernie was in such a strange mood. Up until this point, he'd never seen someone at school blush at something he'd said. He figured Ernie was just suffering a momentary sunburn. "Well, last night, my dream really didn't mean much. I dreamt that I was at the sea with my parents. I wanted to sail this little boat, but they kept on telling me that it would float away if I did. They kept telling me _don't put it in the water, Justin_ and they looked pretty agitated about it. It was just a toy boat, you know? But of course it was a Muggle one, so it couldn't go on its own."

Ernie was listening quietly, wondering why this story was beginning to sound so sad.

"So I just kept on begging them, _Mum, Dad, can I please put it in? _And they kept telling me that if I put that little boat into the sea, I would be really sorry." All of a sudden, Justin quit talking.

"Well, did you?" Ernie asked him.

Yes," Justin answered crisply. "And this awful storm came. It washed my little toy sailboat away, and all I could do was wonder why I'd ever thought of doing it. Weird, isn't it?"

"What do you supposed it means?" Ernie asked casually, also reading from the sheet of questions.

"A load of nothing," snapped Justin. "I just don't believe in dreams meaning much."

Ernie blinked. "Really?" The pink twinge disappears slightly from his cheeks. "You don't think so?"

"No. But, I mean, it's fine if you do. I just—what would _you _say it means?"

Ernie has put himself in a very difficult place. "I don't really know. I guess if you don't think it means anything, then it doesn't. I mean, I bet someone could get meaning from it. _Someone, _not me, of course, but someone might think that you really want to do something. You really want it so badly, but inside, you keep telling yourself that you can't have it, or maybe that you don't deserve it, or maybe, you're wondering what other people would think. And other people are making their opinions really clear, y'know, like telling you not to sail the boat, even if it's the top thing you want to do… And then, you're crushed because you find out that everyone was right, and you just did something really _stupid. _And now, everyone knows."

Justin is taking note of every word, his sharp eyes fixed on Ernie's face, watching the boy's eyes expand, watching his hands grip the tablecloth nervously.

Coolly, Justin's set face changes: his lips become a smirk. "You actually think... oh _that's_ funny."

"What? What's funny?" Ernie demanded.

Justin's facial expression suddenly became quite dangerous. "You arrogant berk!"

"_What!"_

"You think, you _bloody _think, that my dream had to do with _wanting to be with you!" _Justin hissed through his teeth, holding the edge of the table in both hands as though he might thrust it over at any given moment.

"No!" Ernie cried. "It's not like that! I wasn't even thinking of that! It just seemed like an easy answer, I mean, really, someone telling you not to, and than you do, and then bad stuff—storms, I mean, storms are _always _a bad premonition, it's in every book! I wasn't—no! I don't think you want to be with me," he said in a desperate whisper.

Justin calmed down a bit, but still looked callous. "You're really not good at pulling pranks."

"Not trying to be."

"If you're trying to joke around—"

"I'm not!" Ernie declared.

"Good," Justin voiced, yet was still suspicious. "Then, since we've settled _that, _what was _your _dream about?"

And just like that, Ernie goes all red again.

"What on _earth _is your problem?"

"I don't know," Ernie said quietly.

"What do you mean? What did you dream about?" Justin asked furiously.

Ernie sighed and looked down at the table. "You," he whispered.

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End file.
